


april 27th

by vanibella



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Gen, Gender-neutral Reader, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 13:23:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17081066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanibella/pseuds/vanibella
Summary: Every other day or tomorrow isn’t necessarily a day for celebration. Sometimes it’s meant to be quiet, to be a little heavier than the rest.





	april 27th

**Author's Note:**

> So I thought I’d write something to kind of commemorate our favorite boi’s, uh, death. It’s pretty short, and I honestly feel that it’s kind of rushed, but I hope that you guys enjoy anyway. Might revisit this back later on.

It’s 6 AM in your shared apartment, and the air’s just on this side of stuffy as the April heat finally starts to creep into the air. You wake with a few slow blinks, the mugginess of the early morning making your eyelids and back sticky with sweat and your sleep an abrupt entry and exit of rest. The AC must’ve been timed only up until 5 AM in the morning, the residual cold from the machine barely present.

The room is bathed in a glow of orange-yellow, the shade of a new egg-yolk. It’s a new day marked by yet another sunrise, the splendor of which would most likely sear and penetrate your body with life and warmth.

You turn onto your left side, kicking away the thick comforter as you do so to the bottom of the bed. You snuggle further into your pillow, closing your eyes and curling up into yourself to enjoy that precious moment between waking and sleeping.

He’s already awake when you decide to open your eyes again. He’s staring up at the ceiling of the room, left arm folded under his head and his right drawing small, nonsensical patterns into the bedspread.

It isn’t an occasion worth commemorating, but all the same, it’s something that you can’t help but remember at the back of your head. It’s not like it’s easy to forget either, but you both manage. For the most part, it’s a delicate matter dulled only by the constant sarcastic remarks or jokes he manages to make about it for the rest of the year, but it always takes on a heavier weight the closer the day draws.

Swallowing thickly, you reach out to gently place your left hand over his right arm, encircling your fingers around his wrist and rubbing his knuckles. He stills, and turns his head to look at you.

Blue eyes normally dancing with smug amusement, are now dulled and muted, half-closed as if he’s caught between facing reality and his mind. He moves his hand to intertwine with yours, his grip tight. His brows furrow, and his lips are downturned in a small frown as he pulls your hand to his chest and holds it there. After a moment, he closes his eyes. Sighs deeply, mutters something intangible, and returns to look at the ceiling.

He isn’t moved to tears, and he doesn’t say anything, but you know the battle that he’s waging in his mind. You know that he struggles to live with the nightmares and the memory, and that any kind of sadness, anger, and pain that you feel for what he’s been through is just a tiny fraction of what he must be feeling all the time.

Your empathy is laughably useless in the face of what’s happened to him, but when he turns back to look at you, this time with a small smile on his face and less of a furrow on his brow, you know that it’s nevertheless appreciated.

You smile back, and bring up your right hand to his nape, fingers toying with the fine black strands that rest there. It’s a motion for a hug, for a tight embrace, and he moves to comply. Your movements are slow, sluggish in the light of the early morning, but as he rests his head on your chest and encircles his arms around your waist, you know that he’s going to be alright. He’s not so alone these days, after all.

Jason isn’t alone as he used to be, and that’s all that matters- that he’s got someone to comfort him in the face of all the burdens he’s come to carry. 


End file.
